We’ll celebrate her birthday again in May, during a huge bash for our/their friends that she’ll share with her big brother, D (who’s turning three in June). So her actual birthday was just a small family gathering.
She got a dollhouse from us, a wooden airport set from her brother, babydolls from her grandmothers, a wooden cradle from her grandparents, and a slew of gorgeous, unbelievably cute clothes. (jeggings! heart-print jeans! #canwesharewardrobes?)
And you know what the best part was?
Her very first pigtails …
I swear, those pigtails represent everything truly DAUGHTERY about having a daughter. I felt like for the past 365 days, I’ve had a baby — a sweet one that wears pink a lot, sure, but just a “baby.” She didn’t seem very different from her older brother, honestly. For an entire year.
But when I saw her in those pigtails, my heart melted. And then my heart reformed and exploded in a shower of glitter and sparkly gems.
I saw painting her nails. And taking her shopping on girly mother-daughter dates. And passing on my collections of Babysitter’s Club books and Barbies.
She’s one, now.
She’s not a baby.
She’s a little, tiny, perfect girl.
Happy Birthday to my little daughter, my tiny Rosey-Posy. You make my heart feel things I never thought it could feel, and you will always be “brand-new” to me.